


Hell's Gate

by lost_spook



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Community: b7friday, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-30
Updated: 2010-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thief spends a night in Hell. What's to do but blame Avon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell's Gate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http:)b7friday prompt 'Hallowe'en'.

"I'll give him a perfectly rational explanation," said Vila, trudging along the stony surface in the darkness. It wasn't completely black; there was an eerie purple glow that illuminated unclear outlines. "Hah. Why is it never somewhere civilised?"

Of all the planets, in all the galaxies, Avon had taken it into his head to come to Deneel on the worst night of its year. For forty-eight hours its sun was obscured by a cloud effect that cloaked it, known as 'Hell's Gate'. The locals, Avon had said (whom one had to assume were credulous simpletons) claimed that for this long night their sun entered the gates of hell, releasing the spirits of the dead. So they cowered inside instead of making useful scientific observations. Visitors, Avon added with a rare grin, called it 'Hell'.

 _Credulous and simple, hah_ , thought Vila. If he had any sense, he'd be inside, cowering, too.

Avon had wanted to investigate the 'cloud' itself, wondering if it could be used to hide the Liberator at need. Someone, he'd added, should take readings from below. Guess who got the short straw?

There were noises, slight movements – nothing he could pin down. Ghouls and phantoms and all those things he didn't believe in. Except when they were breathing icy air down the back of his neck; invisible strands brushing his skin. He tried the communicator again. "It's not funny. Get me out of here."

 _"Go where?"_ said a voice.

"Cally? That you? Speak up – and don't hang about. This planet's got it in for me!"

 _"I could be Cally. I could be you. I'm nobody… nobody."_

He swallowed. The voice had come from beside him. "Whoever's behind this trick, you can stop – it's working!"

Instead, hundreds of whispering voices began. He fell to the ground in a whimpering heap, hands clamped over his head, praying they would go.

 _"Everyone dies, Vila!"_

"How d'you know my name?" He lifted his head, but saw only insubstantial, shifting shadows. The chill intensified and he felt a light touch, like leaves falling, again.

"If I die, I'll haunt Avon and see how he likes it," he said aloud. The sound of his voice was better than spectral murmurings and anger overrode the terror. "Hah. Bet he wouldn't even notice!"

The whispering increased, but he could hear individual words against his ear:

 _"Who are we?"_

"Long dead."

"Soon to die."

"Martyrs for a cause."

"Victims of war."

"Dead, like you."

"That does it!" He grabbed the bracelet. " _Help!_ "

*

Vila looked up to find himself back on board, Avon standing over him.

"Dare I ask?"

"I said I was a coward. You shouldn't send me Hell and expect me to come back standing up. I hope you got something useful."

"No. Rather disappointing – nothing of interest, after all."

Vila swallowed.

"What about you?" asked Cally. At least she had the decency to sound concerned.

The thief stood. "Nightmares. Let's go!"

*

Trouble was, he knew nightmares were something he could never outrun. Not in the end.


End file.
